Bar-el Dan - The Very, Very Far North

For my fathera gentle man

D. B.

For my own Dan, who I will forever adventure with

K. P.

I F YOU HEAD NORTH, really north, to the north part of north, where parallels and meridians tangle, where compasses get confused and chronometers lose confidence, and then once you reach that north, you go just a little bit farther north, thats where youll find Duane and his friends.

It is a world apart, but its familiar all the same.

Duane will likely greet you with the warm affection he shows for his friends C.C., Magic, Handsome, and the others. He might offer you an icicle treat or ask your opinion on whether a mid-late-morning nap is preferable to a late-mid-afternoon nap. And if, during the first few minutes of your chat, you find yourself unable to stop staring, unable to overlook the fact that Duane is a polar bear, do not worry. Duane wont be upset. Duane rarely gets upset. He has only kindness in his heart, which is why his friends love him so.

But for those of you who have limited time, due to school or soccer practice, or because your parents need looking after, and making a long trek up north is just not possible at the moment, then the story Im about to tell will tide you over until you are ready.

A S THE STORY GOES, before there was Duane, there was C.C. Ask any of his friends, ask Sun Girl or Squint, and they would tell you the same.

One day, which is to say one Thursday, because all good stories start on a Thursday, Duane lumbered into the Very, Very Far North from somewhere else. It wasnt planned. It wasnt expected. But it was summertime, so in a drowsy, lackadaisical frame of mind, Duane followed the shoreline of the Cold, Cold Ocean, paying no attention to anything other than the sound of the gentle lapping water. Eventually, he found himself on a beach that slanted at just the right angle to make it ideal for napping. Even better, behind the beach were marshes filled with long, tasty grass, and set farther back were bushes and bushes of delicious wild berries.

Duane prized three activities above all others. Since two of them happened to be napping and eating, he found this place to be more than agreeable. In fact, right then a nap was insisting itself upon Duane, who yawned in complete agreement. But when Duane stretched himself on his back to warm his tummy in the summer sun at just the right angle, his eyes caught sight of something curious off the coast. It was a ship, or rather, it was a shipwreck. Duane was not well-informed enough to know what either a ship or a shipwreck was, but I can tell all of you who do know that the tall wooden ship that had run aground was old. Only one of the three masts remained unbroken, and none still held its sails. The hull listed to one side, and a very large, splintery gash marred the bow.

Duane studied the shipwreck with great interest because Duane was a polar bear in possession of a curious nature. In the right situation, a nap and a snack could sometimes be put off for a little exploring. Exploring was Duanes other most favorite activity. Toward the Cold, Cold Ocean he went, and with a splash, he was soon paddling to where his curiosity led.

He reached the shipwreck, swimming right through the gap, as the ship did not lack for seawater within, which sloshed back and forth against the thick wooden ribs of its dark belly. Duane swam toward midship, where a set of steep stairs invited him up to a level still inside the ship but above the waters surface. With a couple of shakes, Duane dried himself off and began his exploring in earnest. Along the corridor were several rooms, some filled with boxes, others containing strange items he couldnt name, but sadly, none, as far as his nose could tell, had anything to do with food. At the very end of the passageway was a door, slightly ajar with light spilling out. Also spilling out was the sound of a well-spoken voice. The voice was speaking Latin, which you may know, but Duane did not, nor do I, so Im afraid I cannot translate.

Cogito, cogitas, cogitat.

How curious , thought Duane, making his way closer. Written on the door with beautiful flourishes in gold paint was a name, but time had faded most of the letters away so all that remained were two capital C s. Duane, however, mistook them for two round eyes. When he pushed his snout through a gap, he was able to glimpse who was talking in that mysterious language.

Ego descite, discis, et discit.

Perched upon a wide oak table, among more strange items, Duane spied a snowy owl reading from a large open book. I would hasten to add that she was a very serious-looking owl, but Im not sure if owls come in any other variety.

Hello, said Duane.

Rogo, rogas, rogat The owl paused, looked up from the book, and rotated her head toward Duane. Who might you be? she inquired.

Here was a question never asked of Duane before. He gave it serious thought because he suspected that this was what the owl would want. Well, I might be Kevin or Trevor... but Id prefer to be myself, Duane.

Duane the polar bear.

Am I? asked Duane.

Most certainly, said the owl with a curt nod. I can show you a drawing of a creature that quite resembles you, and beneath the drawing it states emphatically that you are a polar bear.

Using her wing, the owl flipped quickly through many pages of the book that sat on the table in front of her until she stopped and pointed with her other wing. Duane ventured closer and looked over the owls shoulder. Huh! So I am.

And will you, Duane the polar bear, be staying here?

Here? Duane looked around the room, with its many bookshelves and metal objects and such. Everything looked hard and had sharp edges. Other than the back wall, which consisted of mainly windows that allowed in lots of light, it was not nap-friendly in the least. And besides, wouldnt it be an imposition? Duane felt he wasnt anything more than an uninvited guest or a well-intentioned intruder. Isnt this your home?

It wasnt at first, but it is now. Ive grown fond of the library and the scientific instruments.

Im not sure that Id be comfortable here myself.

According to this book, you prefer living in snow caves.

According to me, as well, agreed Duane, who considered himself more and more of an expert on the subject.

However, were currently short of snow, it being summer. If you are willing to adapt, there is a rock cave not far from the beach you were about to take a nap upon. Follow me and Ill show you.

The owl took off from the table, flew out of one of the open windows, and then upward out of sight. Two polar-bear blinks later, she returned to find Duane standing exactly where she left him. I should have mentioned that there is a set of stairs at the far end of the corridor that leads above deck.

Ah, said Duane in understanding.

When they reunited atop the broken ship, Duane had thought up a question. How did you know I was going to nap on the beach?